


Tony Stark Needs a Hug

by WilmaKins



Series: Fanniversary Thank You Fics [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 03:22:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilmaKins/pseuds/WilmaKins
Summary: Tony is too stubborn to ask for a hug. Steve gives him one anyway.





	Tony Stark Needs a Hug

**Author's Note:**

> So, to celebrate one whole year posting on Tumblr and AO3, I offered to fill some prompts for all the lovely people who've been so supportive and kind this year - please feel free to comment or visit my Tumblr if you'd like to make a request :-)
> 
> It has been pointed out to me that - for various reasons that I should've thought of sooner - this would make way more sense as several individual fics in a collection than one chaptered fic. Hence the rearrange. I hope this doesn't bug out....

Not all of the side effects of the serum are obvious.

Yeah, everyone knew that Steve was bigger and stronger now. Faster. There was always someone on hand to point out that he was _smarter_ now, always with a patronising smile, _see, I remembered. _Like Steve should be pleasantly surprised to find someone deep enough to see that he wasn’t an idiot…

But there were other things; things that no one would have thought of. More subtle things, maybe. Or more important things…

Steve _noticed_ things, now.

He supposed the point was that he would notice an enemy reaching for a gun, or be able to spot a double agent acting strangely, or recognise when someone had been rifling in his things. He assumed all of his enhanced qualities were ultimately there for the purpose of combat and service.

The trouble was, he couldn’t leave it on the battlefield.

He’d realised it back in the forties. He found himself picking up on Bucky’s tone of voice more often, just _knowing_ the difference between sad and tired and concerned from the pitch alone. He saw that Gabe would bite his lip when he was embarrassed, that Junior tapped his foot if he was thinking more than he was saying, that Dino looked at the sky if he was thinking of home.

This was all fine in the forties.

The trouble was, in the 21st Century, Steve _still_ noticed when people were uncomfortable, or unhappy, or scared – he just didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t know _anyone_ here. He didn’t know what their histories or their triggers or their vulnerabilities were. He didn’t even understand the world they existed in. He didn’t understand what _anyone_ was anxious about, these days – literally. He didn’t know if his comforts would be old fashioned, laughable, offensive even. He was just a stranger, forever picking up on his teammate’s discomfort, with no way to ask if he could help…

Tony was the worst.

The trouble with Tony, Steve had decided, was that other people really _didn’t_ know. And he knew that sounded arrogant, or worse, like he was one of those dreadful, patronising people – _I’m deep enough to get you_… It wasn’t that. It was just that Tony was _really_ good at hiding his emotions. His tells were far more subtle, far better controlled that anyone else’s. Steve knew why other people didn’t spot it – he was sure _he_ wouldn’t have seen it, if it weren’t for the serum…

Okay, he paid more attention to Tony, maybe…

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was… Steve _knew_ that Tony was struggling tonight.

Tony had joined the team for dinner, and he’d smiled and joked and stayed to chat after he finished his meal… but still, Steve could tell. The fact that Tony had finished off so many jokes that Steve knew he could have run with. The way he kept asking other people, _well, what about you?_ The way he answered questions with anecdotes and quips rather than opinions. All ways of handing the conversation over; making it look as though he was talking, talking, talking while he was saying as little as he could. Steve could see him hiding –

So, what do you do about _that_?

If it had been Bucky, back in the forties, Steve could’ve just _asked_. He would’ve known how Bucky would react; he’d have been able to _guess_ what it was about. He’d have just been able to say some words, without having to think if Bucky was going to mock them for being quaint, or pull a face like a bad taste and tell him, _yeah, we don’t call it that any more…_

He’d watched Tony from across the table, grabbing egg-rolls and asking Clint if he thought he’d be as good a shot in a different atmosphere, and he’d tried to picture asking him, _are you okay?_ Tony would just tell him, _always_, like he always did – Steve knew him that well, at least. _What’s wrong?_ Was that too aggressive? Would Tony just tell him to mind his own business? The phrase _respecting boundaries_ floated through Steve’s head… And this was how it always went. Steve having a little debate on his own, while Tony did his performance, and tidied a few cartons away, and made to leave…

A chorus of cheerful, _bye, Tony’s _and _g’night’s_ – even though he was clearly headed back up to the workshop, rather than down to his bedroom. Back up to work, even though it was the end of the evening and there wasn’t a mission in progress and he was clearly bone tired… Maybe no one else saw that. They’d barely glanced up when Tony stood to leave – why would they? He’d not done anything remotely off.

But Steve knew; everything was off.

He had no idea what it could be, or what could possibly help – but he knew what was going to happen. At least, he knew that he’d see Tony sometime tomorrow afternoon, still in the same clothes, either hungover or just exhausted. That empty, lost look in his eyes, until he saw someone looking and blinked it away…Steve knew it would happen, because it happened every time. Steve had _noticed._

He wished he would _notice_ the fucking answer lying around here somewhere…

But, as it wasn’t likely to occur to him, Steve told himself there was nothing he could do. That it probably wasn’t his place anyway – that Tony had plenty of people he _did_ care about, in the non-workplace-boundaries-respecting way, people like Rhodey and Pepper who really knew him. Who might understand what Tony was talking about if he _did_ tell them what was wrong… Steve told himself he was standing up to go to bed. He said good night to everyone, thinking he was going to take the stairs down to his bedroom. Because there _was_ nothing he could do, nothing he could say, no way he could help – no reason to head up to Tony’s workshop and try anyway.

And yet.

Steve felt his ribs tightening as he started up the staircase, a strange feeling of panic that he hadn’t thought to expect… but, really, what the hell _was_ he doing? He really didn’t have the first clue what he was going to say when he got there – thinking logically, this could only go badly. His heart was beating in anticipation of this awful, awkward event he was about to go through; and still, he was heading up. Doing it to _himself_.

Because he just couldn’t not.

Same as he could never run away from a gang of bullies who were quite obviously going to beat the crap out of him. Because fighting was the only alternative to just letting them win – even if it was an alternative that didn’t actually do any good, in the short term.

Steve didn’t know if he could do any good by going to Tony now. But he couldn’t just walk away and leave him to struggle on his own. He might not be able to stop Tony suffering, but he couldn’t just let it happen. There _was_ a difference.

Of course, his absolute confidence in his convictions wavered slightly when he actually got to the workshop. When he saw the wall alive with layers of holograms; impossible numbers and incomparable symbols and information moving too quickly for him to see, serum or not. An immediate, visible reminder that Steve was so out of his depth, a warning that he couldn’t possibly understand whatever was worrying Tony. An internal alarm, _not for you, not for you, not for you._

And then Tony glanced up. There was a flicker of surprise, enough that he forgot to cover himself for a second. A whole second in which Steve could just openly see how exhausted and… _lonely_, Tony was.

Sad. Not angry, or frustrated, or anxious. That sweet, soft sadness that you see in the eyes of little children, before they learn not to show it to the world.

And then Tony blinked, and his features hardened just a little. A slight frown, enquiring, on the edge of defensive, _…yes?_

Steve let go of a little breath, defeated almost as soon as he began. But still, he began.

“…Are you okay?”

“Always” Tony smiled, immediately. Obviously. Same little quirk of the eyebrow as always, as though he were faintly amused Steve should ask.

But he didn’t turn away.

That wasn’t the same as always.

Steve had noticed the way Tony would find an excuse to look elsewhere, when he wanted to close things down. Whatever it was that made him want to run – Steve could never make sense of the pattern – but he knew Tony responded the same way every time. Look at a monitor. Become immediately engrossed in his work desk. Turn to search for something, anything, on the shelf directly behind him. Steve had just expected Tony to look away, even as he spoke. He’d been so sure he’d have to say his next lines to the side of Tony’s head, while he squinted thoughtfully at one of his holograms.

And he didn’t.

Tony just carried on looking right at Steve. And Steve noticed the way he flexed his hands, like he was thinking about reaching for something. The way he kept his arms at his sides, even as his shoulders tensed. Steve didn’t understand it, but still, he _knew-_

_He’d just like a hug, right now_.

Steve saw it, in all the little details that he couldn’t help but notice. A _physical_ loneliness, a dark mood that went beyond problems or worries, an ache that words wouldn’t soothe. Steve _knew_ that feeling. The strange feeling that just being able to hold someone, just having something real under your hands, just knowing someone was there, wouldn’t change anything – but still, it would help.

_Oh, God, how the fuck do I do that?_

The exact same panic that he’d felt as he’d made his way up the stairs. The same dip in his gut as he tried to think of how very badly this could go. Steeling himself for a beating, emotionally speaking-

Not thinking for a second that he just wasn’t going to do it.

He’d seen it now. He knew that a hug was the only thing that could even potentially help – whether it _would _help or not. It was a rare thing these days, for Steve to completely sure that he knew the right answer to something. And, okay, he didn’t understand why Tony needed a hug and he wasn’t sure how to offer Tony a hug and he hadn’t the first clue what would happen _after_ he’d tried to hug Tony… but he knew that was what Tony needed. He knew that. And he couldn’t just leave Tony, lost and sad and lonely, with no chance of getting what he needed from anyone.

He wasn’t sure if Tony pushing him away, or asking him what the hell he was doing, or throwing him out of the lab, was going to help – any more than being knocked out in a parking lot had ‘helped’. But, heaven help him, he was going to do it anyway.

Steve took a tentative step forward, and he caught the way Tony flinched. By now, Steve was judging this situation the same way he might a combat mission, looking out for every reaction with as much focus as he ever had in battle. Tony had flinched, but he’d tried not to. Tony hadn’t stepped in with a deflection or a joke, even to fill the silence. Tony wouldn’t _ask_, Steve knew that… but maybe this was as close as he could manage. Not saying no. Not moving away. Not putting up any of his usual defences, just waiting to see.

Steve took the final few steps up to Tony, and he felt Tony freeze as he closed the gap. The way he tensed every muscle as Steve breached the limit of conversational personal space, and it became clear, _no, we’re going there, this is a hug-_

Trying _not_ to run.

There was a little kick of anxiety in Steve then, a sudden confusion as he tried to process Tony’s reactions in real time. The first stirring of doubt, even as he folded his arms around Tony’s shoulders, just because Tony was so stiff, because this body language usually translated as _uncomfortable_ – maybe it just meant _no_-

That same alarm – _not for you, not for you, not for you_

And then he felt Tony soften. His shoulders dropped, and he leant in just so, and there was a surge of relief as Steve realised,

_Right answer_.

It was only then that Steve realised how rigid his own body had been – as he relaxed his arms and held Tony properly, pulling him against his chest and taking the weight of him. Finally, Tony let his head fall onto Steve’s shoulder, like he was claiming a victory and surrendering completely, all at the same time. Steve felt him exhale very slowly against his neck, and a warm, liquid feeling swelled up in his chest…

For a moment, he only cared that it had been the right answer. That it hadn’t been the _wrong_ answer, for a start – that he hadn’t caused a fight or humiliated himself or made Tony feel even worse. That, maybe, this time, he might actually have _helped_, that Tony might actually feel better…

And then, the thought whispered to him…

_You are hugging Tony Stark_.

His fingers flexed involuntarily against Tony’s back, his next breath coming just a little higher.

…So, this is what the shape of his body felt like, pressed against Steve.

This was the smell of his hair, the sound of him breathing, the warmth of his mouth, so close to Steve’s skin…

And then he felt Tony tense again, inhaling sharply as he leant away. Steve loosened his grip, somewhat reluctantly, and then dropped his arms to let Tony step back. Tony looked at the floor, and then at his work desk, a blush colouring his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just _really_ tired” He mumbled, crossing his arms. And then he _made_ himself look at Steve. Steve went to smile, and realised he already was.

“So why are you still working?” He asked, kindly. And Tony parted his lips, like he was about to answer him… and then his mouth softened into a smile. A little smile – but a real one.

“I have absolutely no idea.” He sighed, looking away from Steve and back to his holograms-

He closed them all down with a wave of his hands.

“I’m not still working” Tony decided, “I’m going to bed” And Steve just grinned, and nodded. _Good_.

Everything was good. 


End file.
